


Consent to Dream

by lyricalentropy



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Green Arrow, Green Lantern (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art Student AU, M/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalentropy/pseuds/lyricalentropy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle Rayner is an aspiring art student, he wasn't expecting model Connor Hawke to have such an impact on his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consent to Dream

It has hardly the first time he’d had to sketch a live art model, it wasn’t even the first time he’d had to sketch a nude male model, but it _was_ the first time he’d ever found himself so...distracted.

He liked to think he was a professional, or at least an _aspiring_ professional, and as a professional he was expected to focus on the art, not the model. And it had never been a problem before. His various art classes brought in a wide range of live models all the time, from the stunningly beautiful and lithe to the bordering on morbidly obese, and Kyle had been able to detach himself and focus on the art for each and every one. Even that one model, Allison, with the amazing breasts who kept lounging seductively and sending him obvious come-hither looks the entire session.

Kyle could appreciate the beauty of the human form, but his art was for the sake of art, he wasn’t some pervert who considered the live modeling classes as an opportunity to get off on some naked body.

A fact he was far more convinced of before the arrival of new live art model, Connor Hawke.

Connor was beautiful, to put it simply. He was an artist, not a poet, he couldn’t wax long sonnets about the model’s Adonis-like golden hair, or the stunning contrast it painted with the man’s darker skin, or how his eyes were an impossible shade of green that managed to convey both tranquility and strength and made it almost impossible to look away.

While Kyle had no problem admiring something or someone beautiful, this was different, far less like the innocent appreciation he’d had for some of the other models and more like the way he’d felt around the girlfriends he’d had over the years. And that was all _before_ Connor had calmly walked into the center of the half-circle of art students perched behind their easels, stretched out in a deceptively casual yet sensual pose, and slid the robe off of his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground without so much as a second glance.

Kyle knew he was in trouble when he found himself feeling jealous of the robe.

______________________________

Kyle stared at the sketch in his hands as he lounged across his bed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud of his work, he was confident enough in his skills to know that while what he held in his hands wasn’t quite as beautiful as the real thing it was still good work.

The issue was how _much_ he’d managed to draw of the model. There wasn’t a specific amount he was required to draw, that wasn’t exactly the issue. There had been classes where he’d spent the entire time sketching out a single body part and felt nothing but satisfaction. No, the problem was that he’d wanted to draw more of the model, but every time he’d looked lower than Connor’s neck he’d found his eyes wandering across the finely toned muscles, tracing the small scars running across the man’s chest, wondering what that bronze skin would _taste_ like.

And so he’d managed to draw down to the neck, and that was it. Groaning in frustration Kyle tossed his sketchbook to the corner and tried to smother himself in his pillow.

He wasn’t even _gay_. At least he didn’t think he was. Of course fantasizing about tasting a guy’s skin probably made him at least a little gay...

Maybe he was just horny? That was probably it. He dragged himself up off the bed and with a new purpose in mind, headed over to the living room.

Four hours, nine porn films, and a sore right hand later, Kyle admitted it was more than just the hormones.

____________________________________________________

He was pathetic, he decided two days later. He was a sad, pathetic little man who probably had some deep seated issues he hadn’t addressed yet. Maybe this was somehow a previously undiscovered result of not having a father figure in his life that resulted in him fixating on a man that...looked and acted nothing like his dad.

Which made absolutely no sense.

He missed the days when his life made sense, way back three days ago when he was pretty sure he liked girls and wasn’t a pervert who got far too much enjoyment out of starting at naked younger men.

At least he managed to draw down to the middle of the other man’s chest today, and he’d even gotten an arm in. Maybe tomorrow he’d be able to get the other arm, something to aspire to!

...He was really pathetic. It was Connor’s fault, he decided, for having such attractive and well developed arms.

Great, now he was fantasizing about the guy’s _arms_ , what was wrong with him? Not that those arms wouldn’t feel amazing wrapped around his waist, or draped across his shoulder, or on both sides of him as the model pushed him against a wall and pressed their bodies together.

...He needed another cold shower.

_____________________________________________

Dear brain, just because a guy smiles at you, it does not mean he secretly wants to get into your pants, or drape you across his shoulders and walk out of the art room, or want to have your babies. For one, that last one isn’t even _possible_ and Kyle was pretty sure in the hypothetical relationship that had no basis and would probably never happen, he’d be the one on the bottom.

At least he’d managed to draw the model fully today. And he’d only needed to go to the bathroom once. Well okay, twice, but the first time was before Connor had even shown up and it really shouldn’t have counted.

He tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow was the last day Connor was scheduled to model for the class and whether or not that was a relief or not. On one hand, he might be able to concentrate on his work again, but on the other...as distracting as Connor was even the sight of the other man brightened his day.

Who was he kidding? He hated the idea of not being able to see the other man again, professionalism be damned. The model probably didn’t even give him a second thought, would probably forget him the moment he left the classroom, if he even noticed him in the first place.

Kyle frowned at the sketch in his hands. He may not have a chance with the model, but at the very least he was determined to make the other man remember him. It only took him a few moments to gather the needed supplies and he nodded towards the blank page set out on his desk as he got up to make a fresh pot of coffee.

It was going to be a long night.

_______________________________________________

Kyle wasn’t egotistical enough to think he didn’t have any faults. He knew he was immature, a bit quick-tempered, and prone to making stupid decisions without really considering the consequences. One thing he _wasn’t_ , however, was a coward.

So why was it so hard to give a piece of paper to a guy he barely knew? He was proud of the drawing, really proud; he’d put a lot of effort into inking and coloring it and the effort had shown. Hell, the man wasn’t even naked in the drawing, an emerald green sheet draped across the man’s hips hinting at what lay underneath without actually showing anything. But Kyle was still terrified of giving the drawing to it’s intended owner.

If he was honest with himself it had less to do with Connor’s approval towards the picture, and more to do with the fear that once his gift was given that would be the last of their interaction and all Kyle would have left of the man would be a few sketches and lingering dreams.

He almost didn’t follow through, almost kept the picture and walked out the door. Almost, but he wasn’t a coward.

He waited until the room had cleared out, waiting nervously in the classroom while the model changed back into his clothes, picture clutched tightly in his hands.

When Connor came back into the room, fully dressed, it took him a moment to notice Kyle. After all, there was no real reason for him to be there and the model wasn’t expecting anyone to be waiting in the room. The model gave Kyle a small smile and made his way over, a curious look on his face.

Kyle squished the urge to irrational urge to run.

“Kyle Rayner, was it?” The way the model asked the question made it clear he knew he was right and was asking for confirmation mainly as a formality, and Kyle tried not to think too much about the fact that Connor knew his name. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

Well, now or never.

“Not exactly,” he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and held out the drawing towards Connor, face down. “I just had something I wanted to give you.”

The other man looked at Kyle curiously once more before taking the offered paper and turning it over. Kyle began to feel more self-conscious as the seconds turned into minutes without the other man saying a word or taking his eyes off the paper.

Maybe this was a mistake. Ducking his head, Kyle began to gather his things and stood to make his way out of the room, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder and a soft voice.

“It hardly seems fair to take such a beautiful drawing without giving you something in return,” the model hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, voice more nervous than before. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for some tea?”

Turning to face Connor, Kyle let out a bright grin, barely resisting the urge to do something embarrassing like flinging himself into the other man’s arms and giggling like some teenage girl being asked on her first date. (He ignored the part of him that told him that’s exactly what he felt like; he was manly, dammit!)

“As long as they have coffee too.”

And people told him art wouldn’t get him anywhere in life.


End file.
